Back to the Boro

As I mentioned before I was planning of hitting up the Boro for a much needed visit.

Well, after a bit of frenzied packing on Wednesday I was out the door. I drove quick like a rabbit and got up to my town in almost no time (relatively speaking).

First stop on the agenda was to see the manly friend. Since he doesn’t actually have a home he’s being living in Country’s abandon (but still paid for) room. He also happens to be rooming with Cesar, so it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is how the Minimalist and I act around each other. I found him sitting at his desk watching Deadliest Warrior (possibly my new favorite show, by the way). Out of courtesy to me he shifted his computer to face the bed and we lay down to watch it.

And that’s what we did the majority of the time I was there. It may seem boring, but it was anything but.

It was us in our own little world where tribes of Pacific natives fight Japanese monks and Michael Jackson, Lady Gaga, and Princess Leia watched.

Sounds silly, but it was marvelous. It was extra marvelous considering how nervous I was before my trip.

During a handful of conversations with ChiChi I realized that this was kind of big. Or at least, I thought it was big. My biggest fears?

First, that he would get tired of me. I didn’t expect us to be glued at the hip (and we certainly weren’t here), but I knew we would be spending a good amount of time together, which is something we don’t normally do.

Back in school we would see each other while out at night, I would follow him back to his room, spend the night, lounge in bed for a while the following morning, but I was usually gone by noon. That’s not exactly a massive amount of time.

So the time certainly had me worried. But, as ChiChi can attest, I had a bigger (far more absurd) fear.

My shampoo was going to be in his shower. And he was going to see it.

Believe it or not, that had me really freaked. Something as inconsequential as that may not seem worth a second thought, but to me it meant…commitment. It meant I was living with him, albeit temporarily.

And that made me nervous. So nervous that before I took my bag out of the car I asked him at least 3 times if I could invade his castle.

My fear of commitment is not new. Nor is it a secret. It’s big and real and ugly. And it rears its ugly head quite often.

Hence why the shampoo was a big deal at first.

As to be expected, though, it wasn’t a big deal in actuality. Nothing was a big deal. Nothing I was worried about came to fruition.

My little vacation was perfect. I hung out with the Minimalist, Cesar, Roomie, and a few other lovelies. Mr. Jackson even made an appearance the last night. The Minimalist even took me out on a lovely date (which I got to choose). And we all watched lots of Bob Ross.

And as usual whenever saying g’bye to the manly man, I left an hour later than I planned.

So once again my fears and apprehensions proved to be ridiculous (unlike the amount of clothes I packed, for once). And now I can’t wait until he comes to the Dirty Dirty.

Now that might be cause for concern.

Returning to the Ville

Woah boy!

Saturday night was amazing.

No, it wasn’t just any old success. Success is an understatement. It was an unbelievably, ridiculously amazing smash.

As you know, I was wary about this night. The closer I got to their swinging bachelor pad the more uneasy my stomach began to feel. Upon texting Twin that I had arrived I also texted ChiChi. The text I sent her started with “I’m freaking.”

Obviously, not the best start to a long evening.

Some of my nerves were relieved once I got inside and was greeted with a comfortingly warm hug and a genuine smile from X-Man. I always knew I liked that man.

From there the festivities started.

First on the agenda, some pong on the table Twin painted.

Considering the success I’ve experienced at pong tables recently we decided that we could totally take Blue and Mr. Milly. We were wrong.

After people had their fill of pong someone bonged a beer and all the guests headed down to the water.

Oh, did I not mention that Mr. Milly and X-Man live on a lake, with water, a dock and a boat steps from their porch?

Well, they do. So everyone donned their skimpy suits and grabbed some floats for some fun in the sun. And this is where some of the annoying drama started with Little Girl*.

The word on the street is that her and Blue were doing it and maybe possibly kind of dating. He hadn’t been paying attention to her all day, so of course she decided to have a few drinks and loudly proclaim that she was going to swim across the lake (not a ridiculously far distance, but populated by rushing crafts) without a life jacket.

Everyone protested (thus giving her the attention she wanted), but she did it anyway. Strike 1.

Once the sun got to be too much (and everyone’s cups got too dry) we returned to the house for more ponging and bonging.

At some point we realized one of the guests (who’s name I never really knew) was missing. He was found passed out on the floor of the bathroom. It was only about 6:30.

No need to worry, though. We woke him up, gave me a few bottles of water and he finished his nap in a bed upstairs.

While he was napping Little Girl was crying in another spare bedroom. Blue was intermittently comforting her. And they may or may not have had sex. Strike 2.

At some point in the night Mr. Milly and X-Man decided that if we were going to finish the keg by the end of the night we needed to start taking drastic measures. And so the keg stands begun.

First, X-Man took his turn.

He lasted 21 seconds.

Next, after a little convincing, Blue decided he needed a go.

He lasted 6 seconds.

Then, after the birthday boys had their turns, Mr. Milly (who was manning the pump) turned to the person closest to him. That person just happened to be me.

So up I went.

And 10 or 11 seconds later (once I was sure I had beat Blue) I came down. Victorious.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. We drank. We mingled. We found a Sharpie and everyone proceeded to get tat tat tatted up.

At some point I got a sudden, splitting headache. So I chugged a bottle of water, took an Advil and asked X-Man if I could pass out on his bed for half an hour. He, of course because he’s wonderful like that, said yes.

I thought I set an alarm. I’m pretty sure I set an alarm. But somehow, I woke up at 10am, still in X-Man’s bed, with a half eaten Larabar next to me.

Go figure.

Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have freaked out so much. Quite a bit of time has passed since all the shitty shenanigans of last summer went down. All the people that were involved (including myself) are mature and fully capable of letting bygones be bygones. And we did.

By the time I said g’bye X-Man wasn’t the only person to give me a hug. I got not only a hug, but also an invitation back from Mr. Milly. Blue, of course, didn’t acknowledge me much, but that’s always been his nature so I’m not too terribly surprised. He was too busy babysitting Little Girl, anyway.

*Little Girl- a ridiculously annoying and immature 16 year old girl. She’s chock full-o-mental problems, one of which is her willingness to cause herself harm (or pretend to) or flaunt her issues in order to get attention.

Tripping

Tuesday I spent a thoroughly enjoyable night in the A-T-L at Twin’s apartment (does that make her an adult?) with ChiChi. We dined. We reminisced. We drank. We shopped. We invented a serious drinking game (“Chug your drink and we’ll play Go Fish”).

It was a marvelous time.

Now I’m home for a few days before heading off to another night away. This time, I’m far more nervous than excited.

I’ll be heading to the Ville to party hardy with Twin and Mr. Milly for Mr. Milly’s roommate, X-Man*, and Baby Blue Eyes’** joint birthday party. X-Man is turning 25. Blue is turning 24. I have a bit of history with each.

I’m not going to do into detail about exactly what history means. But I will say that seeing them this weekend (the first time I’ll see/actually spend any real time with them since the fight between Mr. Milly and I) has the potential to be unbelievably awkward, silly, or straight up disastrous. I really don’t think there’s any gray area between those possibilities.

Can you see why I’m nervous?

Not to mention this will be the first time I’ll be spending the night (let alone going to) Mr. Milly’s house since the now infamous night I don’t remember. Twin says he’s past it (and has now shifted the entirety of his hatred onto someone else), but I’m still wary.

I just don’t want to get back in that situation and immediately shift back to last summer. Let’s be honest here. You didn’t know me last summer, but I was a straight up immature skank with skewed priorities and probably a tad bit of a drinking problem. I don’t want to go back to that. Not even for a night.

I like to think (and correct me if I’m wrong) that I’ve grown up and matured a lot over this past year of college. But like an alcoholic (thought not nearly as severe, so don’t freak on me) there are just some situations that test everything about yourself and the new self you’ve created.

And maybe I’m just being overly dramatic. Maybe I’m getting all worked up for nothing (I did just drink a cup of coffee so that could have something to do with it) and everything will be just fine. Maybe we’ll all get along splendidly and if we mention last summer at all it will be in a sincerely joking, no way under-handed, back-handed, or any other-handed, manner.

I hope that’s the case. So far things have been some wonderfully drama free I think any drama now would be a massively unpleasant shock to my system.

On a much lighter and happier note—I’m planning a quick trip up to the Boro to visit the Minimalist and all the other summer school kids. He already said he’d come down during the break between sessions, but I figure that since I’m not doing anything better I might as well go visit. Maybe I’ll even try and time it was a Spirit of the Sit-In Movement happening, so I can keep supporting all that much needed work.

This summer is really starting to shape up.

*X-Man-a big, hearty man who seems to fully embrace “go big or go home.” Between his excessive hook-ups, drinking every night, very adult job, and a few other things, this man never seems to “go home.”

**Baby Blue Eyes-a Starfucks barista that has known me, and mesmorized me with his strangely random statements and ice-blue eyes, since I was 15.

My Sketchy Friends

Since coming home I’ve been spending a good amount of time with Adult. And after hanging out with him the handful of times that I have, I once again realize how much I treasure his friendship.

I know I sound mushy and sentimental and borderline ridiculous, but it needs to be said.

There’s a reason that Adult is the only ex I hang out with—there is an ease to our relationship that can’t be forced. We’re friends. I don’t constantly think of him as the guy I used to date and screw. I don’t wish we were still dating or get jealous or compare his actions now to his actions then.

We just are.

And it is wonderful.

One thing you should know about Adult is that he’s had a bit of a sordid past. Without getting into the nitty gritty of it, he was forced to grow up quickly and then abruptly kicked out of the grown-up club. When we dated it was right after his forced return to normalcy. That, without a doubt, was still throwing him for a loop.

But now, over a year after our short but sweet relationship, he is a completely different person. Maybe this is the person he would have been had it not been for his bumpy road. Maybe this is his slight rebellion against those bumps.

Whatever the reason for his transformation, I thoroughly enjoy it.

Last night is a perfect example of that new approach to life.

I showed up at his apartment with ChiChi and Greenbean, ready for a night of debauchery. There I met Adult’s new best man, Grill Master*. Together the 6 of us took shots of Kraken rum then piled into ChiChi’s car to make a quick beerstop before heading downtown to a house show hosted by “this guy with a house downtown,” as ChiChi described it.

While at first this seemed sketch beyond belief, it turned out to be a marvelous night.

The apartment was a super cool renovated loft, decked out in interesting art and Christmas lights. Despite the fact that there was no air conditioning and I seemed to attract just about every creeper in the place (including a guy that graduated from my high school a DECADE before I did), the music was good, the company was better, and the dancing was great.

Adult and Grill Master were silly drunk. And Adult may or may not have peed out a second story window…twice.

We left after the first band and returned to Adult’s bachelor pad so he and the Grill Master could grill up some tilapia (which they had been drooling over the whole ride home). Grill Master lit the coals, Adult didn’t defrost the fish so he put it on frozen and before the coals were ready, Grill Master kept lifting up his shirt and Adult kept freaking out about his neighbors seeing his bellybutton, Adult put far too much Old Bay seasoning on the fish, Grill Master poured some of his PBR on for good measure, and finally the fish was done.

Despite it being far too salty (and possibly not fully cooked) everyone thoroughly picked it over. I ate saltines.

I finally left around 2:30, much to the protest of Adult who kept trying to convince me that I drank half a handle and should sleep on his beanbag.

Like I said, a good night. Hopefully, there will be a repeat performance soon.

*Grill Master- a thoroughly tattooed guy who enjoys PBR, grilling while drunk, fishing and Southern humor.

Bad News

You know Papa's beach house? The house that allowed my Spring Break to be as drunkenly, independently awesome as it was?

Well, it burned down Sunday night.

Before you begin sitting shiva, you should know it didn't burn to the ground. There are still parts left, but it's pretty bad.

^All the units^

^The back^

^Our front door^

^The site of many passed out nights^

^Where I cooked my first vegan meals and mixed such delicious/deadly drinks^

^Westchester and Roomie's room^

^Where the porch used to be. Take notice of the living room furniture.^

Get the full story here.

We're planning on rebuilding, but as you can guess it'll take a while.

7 hours of Reflection

Today I said g’bye to college, to my freshman year, my extra-humble abode, to my friends, the Minimalist, and the city and lifestyle I’m quickly falling in love with. Saying g’bye brought up a lot of things. Here’s some of them:

Along with my need to express emotions comes with a lack of sentimentality. Just like when I left home, I didn’t take a long, wistful look back at my room. I didn’t take one last walk through campus, remembering my first impressions. Nor did I try to recreate my first meal in the dining hall. Frankly, I was ready to leave. I felt like this was the right time for things to end, I was ready for a change. So I snapped a few pictures before I packed all my crap (there was so damn much!) and that was that.

The Minimalist and I are going to be fine. We’ll make it through the summer.

I’ve learned a lot over this year. I’ve learned the limit of my narcissism and what I truly need to be happy. I learned that when you put other people’s enjoyment as a priority you get to share in that enjoyment (Country taught me that little nugget). I’ve gained confidence and taken another step closer to being…an adult. And that doesn’t scare me as much as it used to.

While I will always feel comfortable and happy in the Dirty Dirty, it is slowly becoming less and less like my home. Driving in today it all seemed so…foreign. The Boro, on the other hand, is starting to seem more like my home. I want it to be my home. It has everything I want in a home (or should I say, in a home that isn’t the Big Apple). And maybe part of this new love affair with the Boro is stemming from my need for a home (sorry, no transient life for me anymore). But I already miss it (especially since I won’t be there for the next Spirit of the Sit-In Movement rally).

There are no guarantees about what this summer will hold. With Twin in the big city, ChiChi in town but with a house on the side, plans with the Minimalist, beaches and Boro visits all up in the air, my professional life certainly uncertain, I couldn’t even begin to make plans. And I don’t necessarily want to. Maybe this will be my summer of freedom. And maybe I like that.

It’s been a whirlwind, friends. A whirlwind, for sure.

The End, in brief

I'll have more to say, more thoughtful reflection and introspection shortly. It will probably come as I make the trek back "home" Thursday. Until then, I have this to offer:

My finals, and thus my freshman year, are over. In celebration I drank some Guilford Golden Ale (only fitting, right?) then headed to Arch Enemy's with Westchester for an afternoon and evening of beer pong (as a team, Arch Enemy and I are very compatible), dancing, dogs and a little drama.

The drama was stupid, as it always is, but it caused me to come to a couple more realizations. Those will be shared later, once they're fully developed.

After leaving I was supposed to go with the girls to an impromptu bonfire, but instead I stayed in my room, ate my weight in hummus, and fell into a fitful sleep.

And now I'm writing again.

I hope that holds you over.